Fortunate Sons
by beamirang
Summary: Captain Pike's crew consisted of the craziest, most brilliant men and women in the galaxy - none more so than his First Officer Jim Kirk. No one could agree on where Kirk came from or why he was there, but there was one thing they didn't argue about - they were glad he was on their side.
1. Chapter 1

This could probably be titled the fic in which everyone is crazy - no one more so than Jim - shenanigans are had, Klingons are battled, McCoy still doesn't know why he agreed to be here in the first place and Mysterious Pasts become unraveled. Tropes will be abused, everyone gets beaten up a bit, McCoy will scowl a lot and Jim will jump/fall off cliffs while Spock and Pike vie for most put upon person aboard. Uhura, Sulu, Scotty and Chekov will encourage and or enable, as and when required.

In other words, this a serious fic you should probably not take seriously. Enjoy!

* * *

FORTUNATE SONS

PROLOGUE

It was misleading to say that no one in their right mind wished to serve as First Officer for Captain Christopher Pike. There were plenty of people who wanted the job. Pike was captain of The _Enterprise_. That alone was enough to attract the career officers. The fact that Pike and his crew also got their pick of assignments only sweetened the deal. Presently, there were nineteen applicants awaiting screening for the position.

None of them would be selected.

A year into their mission and The _Enterprise_ had seen three XOs come and go. The first had suffered a nervous breakdown after an unfortunate incident with the Romulan High Council. The second Pike had put to Court Martial himself. The third had lasted less than a week before throwing himself out of an airlock.

After six months the position had yet to be filled and the Admiralty had learned the hard way that forcing someone on Pike was entirely counterproductive.

For the time being the administrative duties of the First were overseen by Commander Spock, The _Enterprise_'s Chief Science Officer. In a moment of uncharacteristic frustration Pike had offered Spock the job on a permanent basis. Spock, being Vulcan and more than capable of inserting subtext into everything he didn't and didn't say, had politely declined on the grounds that it took focus away from his actual field of interest.

The rest of the crew heard the 'not on your life' loud and clear. They didn't need Doctor Leonard McCoy's muttered talk of superstitions and crazy people to know that the job was cursed.

With that information well known to even the least gossip curious members of Starfleet, the arrival of Jim Kirk aboard The _Enterprise,_ and his subsequent appointment to a previously jinxed role caused no small amount of rampant speculation.

The known facts about Jim Kirk stood as followed: his middle name was Tiberius. He had blue eyes.

Everything else was just hearsay.

If the day of his birth hadn't coincided with the founding of a Federation wide holiday there were some who were willing to claim that Pike had cooked Kirk up in a lab to spring fully formed into life, the Federation Charter tattooed on the insides of his eyelids.

The only people who could claim to know even half the truth about who Jim Kirk was and how he came to be on Starfleet's flagship were Pike, Doctor McCoy and Kirk himself. The rest of the crew knew only that one day they were patrolling the Neutral Zone and the next they were taking possession of a stranded Klingon shuttle.

The technicians who had been on duty when the ship docked hadn't had to buy their drinks in weeks as they addressed crowded Mess Halls with hushed voices, telling eager ears of the way the captain had stormed into the hanger bay like a man possessed, Doctor McCoy hot on his heels. The two men had entered the enemy shuttle and not emerged for almost twenty minutes. The captain had then ordered the entire area cleared and even the most curious of crewmembers had known better than to disobey when Pike used that tone of voice.

The rest of the details seemed to vary from telling to telling, with some swearing they had seen the captain carrying a human body from the ship while others were convinced the shuttle carried valuable Klingon weapons that had been squirreled away for study by Section 31. By the time Kirk stepped foot on the bridge three days later most of the crew were convinced he was the one Pike had carried from the shuttle. What a human was doing aboard a Klingon prison transportation ship was anyone's guess.

It was a conspicuous start to any officer's career, but there was still speculation as to whether or not Kirk was actually an officer at all. He wore no rank or insignia and donned only the black undershirt of his office. Pike called him Number One. The crew called him 'Sir'. The one exception seemed to be McCoy, which meant little. Rumor had it he called Pike all kinds of things in the privacy of the Senior Officers Mess so no one was surprised to hear him call Kirk 'kid' or 'brat' or 'you absolute goddamn moron' when the two passed by. The only surprise was Kirk's reaction. Or lack of.

A more affable, likable man could not possibly exist. Within hours of being paraded in front of the assembled crew, Pike's gruff introduction of "This is Kirk, he'll be our First Officer from henceforth. Treat him with the respect his position deserves and you won't have any problems with him." And Kirk had already appeared to memorize most of the crew by name and face. By the end of the week there wasn't a person on board who didn't have something nice to say about him.

It was unclear if his popularity was linked to the fact that his predecessors had all been universally disliked or merely a product of his own friendly disposition.

Within six months it was as if Kirk had always been their First Officer and still no one knew a damn thing about where he had come from or why he was there. Most had reached the conclusion that they didn't care. They only other fact they had been able to establish about Kirk was the one that made everything else irrelevant.

Kirk was mad.

Certifiably insane.

One hundred percent _batshit crazy_.

And that was if they were being polite. Other words that came to mind were reckless, wild, impulsive… dangerous. Very dangerous. He knew the rules and how to break them. He fought when he should have negotiated; he negotiated when everyone else would have run; he leaps without looking and somehow managed to make it seem like he always knew exactly where he was going to land.

He was, apparently, just the type of man Pike had been waiting for.

The rest of the crew? They were just glad Kirk was on their side.

For now, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

The small crowd that had gathered in sickbay had genuine reasons for being there. McCoy had long since declared his territory as a non-spectator environment and lectured visitors with more superficial cases to within an inch of their life; which was only marginally less than the dressing down you might get if you had genuine cause to seek medical help and were, say, missing a limb or two.

So famous was the doctor's ire, so fearsome his temper, that only the very daring or very suicidal would actually seek out medical aid for an imagined or embellished condition, even to witness the type of show that seemed to regularly unfold whenever Jim Kirk was getting some form of treatment.

Even Pike knew well enough to keep his distance when McCoy was putting his reckless First Officer back into working condition. If Jim was seriously injured he would of course brave the dangers of sickbay to assess his condition and keep an eye on the kid. If Kirk still had all his extremities and could form a semi-coherent sentence, Pike waited and visited him in his quarters once he'd been released. It wasn't cowardice so much as it was smart leadership. He needed his CMO as calm and relatively sane as possible. Hovering over his shoulder while he hovered over Kirk was a quick-fire way of raising the man's blood pressure.

There were, unfortunately, times when the need to debrief Kirk clashed with a need for Kirk to not be bleeding all over the bridge, and a trip to sickbay was necessary. Which was how Pike found himself scowling at Kirk, who was in turn scowling at McCoy – or at least attempting to.

"Damnit Jim! I don't care if a headbutt is a socially acceptable form of greeting in many Tellarite cultures: they have the physiology to support it; you do not!" McCoy was in the process of knitting together the strip of split skin that dissected Kirk's face. Sporting two black eyes, a broken nose and a mouthful of blood, Kirk looked an absolute mess. He was also grinning like an idiot, something guaranteed to drive McCoy up the wall.

"You were the one who told me I should try more diplomatic approaches to problem solving." Kirk said, his voice muffled against the sleeve of McCoy's blues. Pike could see his hands curled around the edge of the biobed, his fingers drumming out a senseless rhythm on the metal frame.

"I don't think that's what the good doctor had in mind, Number One." Kirk didn't give any indication that his unannounced presence had taken him by surprise, despite having no line of sight to where Pike was standing. McCoy on the other hand jumped in the air and started to curse at him.

He and McCoy had an understanding of sorts. McCoy kept Jim alive – a hell of a task in and of itself – and Pike would make Jim write McCoy up whenever his language crossed the line of insubordination. Even though Pike could recall at least a half dozen times he'd officially reprimanded the doctor (and signed off on the reports Jim had written up) for some strange reason McCoy's file was completely clean.

That being said, with the amount of time Jim spent getting patched up after one escapade or another, it was a miracle any paperwork ever got done at all.

"Come to join in the fun, Sir? Jim asked, poking McCoy in the belly when he flailed a tricorder in his face.

"Sadly not." Pike genuinely enjoyed the company of both men, especially when they were joined by a bottle of McCoy's favorite brandy. They were both razor sharp smart, sarcastic and brutally honest, a combination which, when topped up by alcohol, resulted in some of the most memorable and entertaining nights in recent memory.

Which the exception of that one night on Risa. There was a ship wide ban on mentioning the Risa Incident, as Jim had christened it, and when Pike found out who was responsible for plastering the holos all over the galley he was going to personally dropkick them into Klingon space with only a Tribble for protection.

His money was on Scott, though he'd never been able to prove it.

"You clearly made an impression on the Telleran Ambassador. He thinks you are an insolent little shit."

"You headbutted the Ambassador?" McCoy looked equal parts fascinated and appalled.

"I think you'll find he headbutted me." Kirk protested. "I was just being polite."

"You called his mother a whore." Pike said dryly.

"Like I said, polite. You know how much Tellarites like to argue."

"There's arguing, and then there is inflicting bodily harm on a member of the government!"

"He's fine." Jim waved McCoy's concern away.

The doctor turned to Pike. "Is someone coming to arrest him?"

Pike found it harder and harder to keep himself from smirking. "Actually we've been given a commendation for cultural sensitivity."

"Awesome." Kirk beamed, unperturbed by the way McCoy suddenly gave his nose a sharp yank to the left, slotting the disjointed cartilage back into place. "See Bones! I don't do these things for no reason."

"Uh huh." McCoy was barely even listening. Done with his resets, he applied a topical gel to Kirk's face and fired up the regen unit. "Keep your damn head still."

"And at least I got to keep my pants on this time." Kirk pointed out serenely as he refused to do as instructed. McCoy eventually gave up and pulled him into a headlock so he could work unimpeded.

"At least Tellarites just want to argue with you." McCoy corrected. "I refuse to treat you for any more STDs."

"Is it my fault that Orions are a tactile species?" Jim didn't even try escape.

McCoy opened his mouth to respond. Experience had taught Pike that they could go on indefinitely and unlike Kirk he didn't have an excuse not to get some work done. "Gentlemen, enough. Doctor, while I understand your urge to resort to violence, I must ask that you let Number One go. For a few minutes at least."

They both fell silent on command but that didn't stop Kirk from sticking his tongue out behind McCoy's back as soon as he was released.

Why he put up with the kid…

Pinching his nose, Pike let out a long sigh. "Thank you. Now Kirk, how's your Cardassian?"

"_Good enough to insult the doc without him knowing."_ Kirk said, his accent slightly rusty. Now that much of the swelling had reduced on his face, Jim's expressions were more clearly distinguishable. McCoy jabbed him viciously with a hypo. "Ow! Damnit Bones, since when did you speak Cardassian?"

"I don't." McCoy said smugly. "I speak Jim Kirk. Fluently."

"That's a little creepy, you know that right?"

"And where the hell did you learn Cardassian anyway? It's not exactly standard grade school syllabus." McCoy loaded a second hypo and delivered it with considerably less force. Kirk still pulled a face, his bruises looking only half as violent as they previously had.

"Wouldn't know." Kirk shrugged. "I never went to school. I picked it up as a kid."

"Of course you did." McCoy finally stepped back and let Kirk bounce off the biobed. "Well sir," he addressed Pike, "he's as good as he's going to get, physically at least. I'd say the blow might have knocked some sense into him but that's probably too much to ask."

"We can but hope." Pike said with a heavy sigh.

"You both suck." Kirk pouted. Pike raised a stern eyebrow to which Kirk only grinned. "You both suck, sir?"

"God help me. Get out of my sickbay, Jim. Don't you have work to do?" McCoy groused.

"I'm cleared for duty?" Kirk wasn't the only one surprised. The arguments that stemmed from McCoy trying to take Kirk off duty for longer than Kirk deemed necessary (which was for any period at all, really) had been known to leave the whole ship traumatized in the past.

"Like you'd pay any attention if I said no." McCoy scowled. "I pick my battles. Now beat it."

"Love you too, Bones!" Kirk bounced into the corridor and nearly took down a passing midshipman. A flail of limbs and he was helping her to her feet again, reducing the poor woman to a red face and string of embarrassed splutters with just a smile.

"You realize you can't kick me out of sickbay, right doctor?" Pike asked, because he had to. Someone needed to remember he was captain of this damn ship.

McCoy had already started to assess his next patient. "Of course not sir." He said without looking at Pike. "You have a swell day."

Pike was a sensible man. He left without comment and wondered when exactly his crew had stopped being terrified of him.

* * *

He found Kirk waiting in his ready room, all trace of his previous energy pushed back into a restful stillness. The difference between this man and the one who had left medical was startling.

Pike pulled off his overshirt and dropped in onto the chair by his desk. "You really should give the poor bastard a break." He told Kirk.

Kirk had his eyes fixed on a distant point in space, his back to the room. He didn't turn. "He'd panic if I made things easy for him."

"I wouldn't, just so you know."

Kirk glanced over his shoulder with a wry smile. "No, but you'd get bored."

"God help me, I would." Pike slumped into his chair, suddenly weary. Kirk was in motion instantly. He circled around Pike's desk and leaned over besides him.

"What happened?"

"Nothing yet." Pike admitted.

"But you're concerned."

"I'm a starship captain, Jim. Concerned is my primary state of being."

"Really? Because I thought it was being a suave sonofabitch."

"That too." Pike didn't look up from his desk until Kirk was sliding a glass of whiskey over it into his hands.

"Is it Archer again? Because the offer still stands…we can have him killed. I know a guy who'd do it for a bacon sandwich."

"It really should worry me that you are serious."

"But it doesn't." Kirk's eyes twinkled mischievously. You'd never know just how insanely bloodthirsty he was just by looking at his youthful face. "Don't tell me you aren't a little bit tempted."

"We are not killing a Starfleet Admiral, Jim. No matter how much of an asshole he might be."

"Boo. That's no fun." Kirk hopped up to sit on the edge of Pike's desk. "So then? What's the problem? I'm assuming there is one. You have your 'I hate the universe' face on."

Pike didn't dignify that with a response. "I don't even know if it is a problem. For all I know your paranoia is rubbing off on me."

"It's not paranoia if it's real." Kirk said, suddenly serious. "I'm assuming it's to do with the Cardassians. They break the treaty?"

"No, actually I think we did."

Kirk whistled. "Well that's a clusterfuck in the making. What the hell have Command done this time?"

Pike downed his drink in one. It burned all the way down his throat, settling warm in his stomach and clearing his head. "They're sitting around with their thumbs up their asses." He took a steadying breath then addressed Kirk as protocol dictated he should. "The Federation Embassy in Lakarian city was bombed yesterday morning at 0830. There were no Cardiassian casualties, but a number of high profile Federation prisoners were being held there awaiting transport off world."

"An escape attempt?" Kirk asked, slipping off the desk. "Who exactly are we talking about here? Cardassia Prime isn't exactly friendly to outsiders. The fact that we have an embassy there at all is only because they want to spy on us and we are arrogant enough to think that doesn't matter."

"Command won't say. That's the problem. Apparently the transfer papers were never received."

"Bullshit."

"Of course it is. Either way though, our orders are to meet with delegates from Cardassia at a neutral location in order to facilitate a joint operation to bring those responsible to justice, and apprehend any criminal who may have escaped."

The root of his concern was written all over Kirk's face. "Even if we pushed her, we aren't going to anywhere near Cardassia for at least a month." They were currently on the outskirts of Eta Eridianii space, right in the hotly contested region that would inevitably bring the Federation into a war. To their port side lay the Klingon Empire, behind them was the vast reaches of the Federation. The fastest way to Cardassia Prime was through the Neutral Zone, away from the Klingons, but right into the path of a dozen or more enemies of the Federation. "Why us? There has to be someone closer."

"That's why I'm concerned." Pike sighed. "I asked the same question."

He met Kirk's gaze across the desk. "And?" His First queried.

"According to Admiral Archer, the Cardassians are being very clear: they will allow a constitution class, battle ready starship into their system on one condition only – that you are aboard."

Kirk's shoulders slumped. "Well fuck."

"So Number One," Pike leaned forward, braced on his forearms. "Anything you want to tell me?"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry about the wait! I was merrily going over later parts when I found a giant glaring plot hole of doom and had to go back and fix things. Oops! Anyway, have some more of crazy!jim and co. Hope you enjoy! x

* * *

There were many days when Hikaru Sulu questioned his sanity. The day he agreed to play weekly Parrises Squares with Jim Kirk was the day he finally decided that he simply didn't have any. Kirk might have been the most chilled out XO Sulu had ever encountered, but the man had a competitive streak deeper than the Mariana Trench.

Unfortunately Sulu wasn't much better, which made him perversely grateful that they hadn't been at the academy together. There had been times when they'd both broken bones in pursuit of victory and translating that to academics would not have ended well.

Kirk would win. The man was a machine, he would always win, but Sulu was making it harder for him every session and sooner or later he'd finally make Kirk have to push the limits of what was physically sane in order to get his victory. It was inevitable and he suspected Kirk was looking forward to it more than he was.

That day was not going to be today. Kirk was on fire. He swung his ion mallet with the type of force that would break down walls if it made contact, let alone Sulu's ribs.

Sensing his commanding officer needed to let off some steam, Sulu put victory out of his mind and concentrated on not losing a limb while helping Kirk burn off some of his excess energy.

An hour later and they were both wrecked. Sulu's hair was damp and stuck to his head while Kirk was an unattractive shade of pink that complimented the shadow of bruises that still circled his eyes.

Stumbling out of the rec room with a bottle of electrolyte filled water each, they made their way to the mess halls in time to grab the last dishes of lasagna. Kirk grabbed them both portions while Sulu fetched more drinks and they dropped down in seats opposite Nyota Uhura, who gave them both looks of mild disgust.

"Shower?" She suggested, her nose wrinkling when Kirk almost sat on top of her in his haste to eat.

"Uh huh." Kirk said, his mouth already full of pasta. The rest of his sentence was completely illegible.

Stuffing their faces took about five minutes of solid concentration, but eventually plates were cleaned and water was downed and they could slump back against their seats in a small food coma.

"You boys are disgusting." Uhura shook her head in disbelief.

"We're awesome." Kirk patted his stomach contentedly. "So very awesome."

"And not dead. I'm surprised." Kirk kicked McCoy over a chair as the doctor appeared with a healthy selection of food and drink. "Why they let you play that moronic game is beyond me."

"Because it is fun, Bones. A concept that tragically escapes you." Kirk sighed.

Sulu, possessing slightly more self-preservation than Kirk, nodded at the doctor in greeting. McCoy rolled his eyes and dug into his food.

"Is a fractured tibia fun? Because I remember you doing that last time you played that damn sport."

"I question your memory, Bones, I really do." Kirk sighed dramatically, reaching over to steal a carrot off McCoy's plate.

"I question your everything." McCoy snipped back as he dug into his salad, swatting at Kirk's hand with his fork.

Kirk sniggered, "Smooth comeback." Another carrot was lost to him and McCoy clearly gave up on the attempt to defend his meal. "On edge, Bones?"

McCoy glared at him. "Why would I be on edge, Jim? It's not like we're traveling through enemy space or anything."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Is that what this is about?" McCoy huffed. "For the last time, Bones,We'll be back in Fderation space in no time. No one is going to catch us!"

"Until we get to Cardassia and then we'll all be shot on sight."

"How are you such a pessimist?" Jim shook his head in amazement.

"Would you like the evidence chronologically or alphabetically?" McCoy snarked. "We're been hurtling through the Neutral Zone in this tin can for the past two weeks and so far we've been in three firefights, stumbled on two smuggling ships and what I am fairly certain was a Benolian pornography ring."

"Fairly certain?" Uhura asked, frowning.

"Tentacles." Jim shrugged. "I think Pike thought it would be culturally insensitive to ask."

Uhura shot Sulu a look of mild alarm. He could only shrug. Being ordered _into_ the Neutral Zone was crazy enough. He was still trying to get his head around the rest. They'd broken one of the most imperative rules of engagement by crossing over the boundary and despite the threat of being caught, Sulu – and many of the crew – seemed to have taken their cues from Jim and were looking at the whole venture as something rather exciting.

"I didn't ask." Neither he nor Uhura had been on duty at the time of the great tentacle encounter, something he greatly resented. Every moment not spent on duty, especially with Pike at the helm, was a potential waste of an adventure.

"Speaking of, Pike wants to see if we can crack Denoba before we're back in Federation space."

"The smuggler? Chekov said we should be nearing K7 by 0600 tomorrow." Sulu frowned.

"Which gives me nine hours to break him before I'm technically committing a crime." Jim shrugged. "No problem."

"Jim." McCoy warned, his voice pitched low.

Jim's face was the picture of innocence. Sulu would have believed it was completely sincere if he hadn't seen Kirk wearing it just moments before killing a Klingon scout with his bare hands. It was a face that encouraged you to expose all your secrets and carefully hid the brilliant mind that lay behind it.

"I'll be good! I'll be done long before we're back over the boundary." Jim promised.

"That's not what I mean!" McCoy threw his hands in the air. "How exactly do you plan on breaking a man who makes a living peddling flesh?"

"I doubt you're going to do anything he hasn't seen done before." Uhura added reasonably.

Jim's smile sharpened. "Wanna bet?"

"No!" Uhura and McCoy said at once. They'd both learned the hard way not to goad Kirk into anything, least of all something so bloody.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Boring." He then turned his gaze to Sulu, who suddenly saw something bright flash before his eyes and prayed it wasn't his life. "You're almost Command qualified." Jim said, referring to the long line of tests and simulations an officer needed to undergo before he or she could assume command of a starship. It had only been since Jim had arrived that Sulu had even considered qualifying.

"Yes?" Sulu asked, wondering if there was a question there.

"Pike wants you to sit in."

"On the interrogation?" Sulu repeated.

"Yes. That a problem?" One thing Sulu had learned quickly was that for all he trusted Jim to have his back and protect him to the death, his XO scented weakness as quickly as he did blood. It didn't do well to show either.

"No sir." Sulu shook his head. "But, er, how exactly do you plan on breaking him in nine hours?"

Jim waved his hand impatiently. "I'll do it in nine minutes." He then looked around the mess at the gathered crew, stood up on his chair and bellowed: "Sharpie! I need a sharpie!"

* * *

They eventually found Jim's required tool of torture in Botany, where the pens were still used to label same samples. Completely at a loss as to why Jim had requested such an antique item, Sulu had followed curiously in his wake as Jim lead him down into the brig.

Once there, Sulu snapped off a salute to Pike who had taken up a spot by the door and was eying their prisoner with a look of mild contempt.

"Nine minutes, huh?" He said, proving once again that there wasn't a single thing that happened on this ship without his knowledge.

Jim smirked. "Shouldn't be too hard."

Pike rolled his eyes, clearly not won over by Kirk's boast. He looked over at Sulu who hovered by the door. "Got a strong stomach, Lieutenant?"

"I think so, sir." Sulu said, trying to sound confident.

He wasn't expecting the spark of compassion in Pike's expression, nor the words that followed. "You don't have to stick around for this. Not everyone is cut out for it. No shame in that."

"I'm fine, sir." Sulu straightened his shoulders.

"All right then." Pike shrugged. "Just try not to enjoy yourself as much as Kirk does. I don't need two psychopaths on my staff."

"I'm not a psychopath." Jim said, eying the prisoner who had been restrained on the other side of the cell. He'd been stripped shirtless and cuffed to a chair that was built into the floor. His expression was haughty. Sulu would have been pissing his pants if Jim was looking at him like that.

"Keep telling yourself that, son." Pike snorted, leaning back and watching as Jim lowered the energy field keeping the prisoner isolated and stepped into the cell.

The large man had been captured during a raid on a slaving vessel the ship had encountered two days prior. The rest of his crew had been killed, choosing to fight before they surrendered. Thirteen children, aged between three and nineteen had been recovered in the hold, bound, branded and shipped like cattle to black markets around the galaxy. Kirk and Pike had concluded that the ship had been on its way to sell its wares and therefore knew the location of the next auction. The _Enterprise_ wouldn't be able to intercept it themselves, not with the deadline for reaching Cardassia so tight, but they had every intention of passing the co-ordinates on to another ship in the area.

They simply needed Denoba the Baby Selling Asshole, as Jim had christened him, to talk.

"Have you ever seen someone skinned alive?" Jim asked serenely, adopting the tone of voice that routinely scared the shit out of anyone unfortunate enough to hear it. "Because I have. Very few people actually get it right." He crouched down by Denoba's legs and pulled the lid off the sharpie with his teeth. "See, the trick," he placed the tip of the pen lightly against the bare skin of Denoba's left arm, right above the restraint, "is not to go too try go too deep. Some people, they get a little too over excited and start digging around in there," he traced the pen slowly up Denoba's arm, drawing a neat, dotted line from wrist to elbow, "the next thing you know, they're severing arteries, slicing through muscle…and then it's all just shock and exsanguination and that's not much fun."

"You're crazy!" Denoba stuttered, his haughty expression melting under the expression on Jim's face, looking at Jim then up at Pike and Sulu. "He's crazy!" Sulu wasn't surprised. Torture was forbidden under Federation Charter. The worst they could do was lock him up.

Or give him to Jim.

"Pretty much." Pike nodded.

"You can't do this! I'm a Federation citizen!" He was protected by the law – at least the law that existed within Federation space.

"He's not." Pike smirked down at Jim who looked up and grinned brilliantly. That was news to Sulu.

"I'd stop squirming if I were you," Jim said mildly, returning to his work. "I just told you how delicate this process is."

"You can't do this to me!" Denoba shrieked as Jim continued drawing his dotted line up his arm and over the ball of his shoulder.

"I kinda am." Jim pointed out reasonably. "Anyway, as I was saying. The trick is not to go too deep. And to work in small patterns. Like a tailor. It's all about the little pieces. Like this," he finished drawing his first marks, "You take your knife – I recommend something with a smooth edge, serrated might have a nice ring to it but it gets really uneven results – and then you follow the dots." Jim's finger skipped lightly over his marks, following the pattern his was describing. "Then it's just a case of peeling the skin back, kinda like an orange peel."

It was times like this Sulu remembered that as loved as Jim was on their ship, his name was whispered with fear right to the very edges of the galaxy.

He hadn't so much as reached for a sharp object –he wasn't even armed at all as far as Sulu knew – but in minutes he'd reduced a Federation renowned criminal to desperate hyperventilation and panic.

Denoba sucked in quick, hysterical breaths and continued squirming as Jim traced a line around his collar bone, down his sternum and lower, until he reached the waistband of his pants. He was babbling between inhalations in a language Sulu could not understand.

"Standard please," Jim scolded. "Don't be rude." He shuffled over to Denoba's other side and raised the sharpie like a weapon. "And then we repeat on the other side. The same process works for the legs as well, though I find it's best to make an incision at the knees if you want to get the cleanest results. The back's pretty easy but the chest can be tricky sometimes." He paused and laughed brightly, "Don't even get me started on how difficult it's going to be to do your dick."

"Okay!" Denoba spluttered. "Anything! I'll tell you anything. Just get him the hell away from me!"

"The auction. Where's it being held?"

"Tauraz IX." Denoba yelled as Jim hauled himself up and began drawing on the side of his face.

"Don't believe you." He looked over his shoulder at Pike. "Hey, you think I can get his whole face off in one?"

"It's the truth! Tauraz IX. Jex Alpha."

"I'd do the eyelids separately." Pike suggested.

"Please! I'm not lying!" Denoba sobbed. Jim cocked his head and looked at him.

"No, you're not, are you?" Jim bounced back and popped the lid back on his sharpie before bounding over to Pike. "He's all yours."

"Three minutes, Number One. Not bad."

"What can I say?' Jim beamed. "I'm awesome." He walked over to where Sulu stood, rooted to the spot and slightly shell shocked. "Come on, Lieutenant, let's go see what drinks are on special in the mess. My treat."

Sulu couldn't stomach the idea of eating or drinking anything but he obediently followed in Kirk's wake, only half aware of the hand that supported his elbow, guiding him away from the walls as they traveled the corridors.

"You okay, Sulu?" Jim asked, his voice serious and without a hint of the psychotic crazy Sulu had just witnessed. "First times can be a bit rough."

Sulu was, he guessed, at least three years older than Kirk, yet he'd never felt so young or inexperienced in his life. He shot Jim a guarded look, feeling unbalanced and uncomfortable with how easy Jim had just tortured a man – and it was torture. Jim might not have shed a drop of blood, but he'd eviscerated Denoba psychologically. "Would you have done it?"

Jim frowned. "Done what?"

"Skinned him alive." Sulu shuddered at the thought of being in Denoba's position and Jim looked over sharply.

"Of course not." He said firmly. "For a start it's really messy." His attempt at levity failed to lighten Sulu's mood and he quickly abandoned the tactic. "Look, I didn't need to. It would never have gotten that far. Nine times out of ten, the threat of pain is more than enough to break people, no matter how tough they like to think they are."

"And the one exception? What if he was it?"

"He wasn't." Jim said.

"How can you be so sure?" Sulu demanded. "You can't know a man's breaking point."

Jim frowned at him. "It's my _job_ to know. Besides, you can always tell. It's in the eyes."

Sulu wasn't even sure he understood what that meant. All he did know was that he felt like he had failed a test he hadn't even known he was taking. "I don't think I could do that. Break someone." He clarified when Jim looked confused.

"Sure you could. With the right incentive you'd have marched into that room and ripped him apart." Jim sounded so certain that Sulu was afraid he spoke the truth. He didn't believe himself capable of such violence, but then what did he really know? He'd never been forced to make that choice.

"And what if I did….what if I couldn't break them. What then?" Sulu asked, because how far exactly did you go? Could there even be such thing as an acceptable level of torture?

They finally reached the mess and Jim's shoulders relaxed at the wall of cheer and sound that reached them. "Everyone breaks, Sulu." He said, his expression kind and warm and in line with the Kirk he liked to hang out with. "They always do."

"No exceptions?" Sulu asked, sensing they were at the end of the conversation.

Jim's smile didn't reach his eyes but Sulu failed to see any other emotion behind the mask. "None."


	4. Chapter 4

From this part on, things are going to start getting darker. Not deepest depths of hell dark, but still pretty dark.

* * *

McCoy sprinted through the corridors, knocking down several midshipmen as he ran. He had only the one hypo in his hand, having known instinctively what the emergency was as soon as he got the call from Captain Pike.

Goddamnit, Jim Kirk was an idiot.

And Leonard McCoy was going to hell.

He thumbed open the door to Pike's quarters with the foreknowledge of someone who had done so on frequent occasions. Pike's; Jim's: he knew them both.

The door slid open and he charged in, dropping to his knees beside Pike who had both arms wrapped around Kirk's chest as the kid seized violently.

"I thought you gave him the damn shot!" McCoy yelled at his captain as he forced Jim's head to one side and exposed the underside of his neck, tendons taught and straining against his skin.

"Why would I give it to him?" Pike snapped back, breaking off from the encouraging words he had been whispering to Jim in order to glare at McCoy. "That's your damn job."

McCoy didn't show that the hit had found a target, pressing the edge of his hypo against Jim's neck and delivering the drugs directly into his bloodstream. Almost instantly, the violent seizures began to taper off. "Computer said they'd been administered. Since I didn't do it and you're the only other person with access…" McCoy trailed off, checking Jim's vitals and frowning at what he saw. "You think he tampered with the system?" He asked, lowering the tricorder and pressing the back of his hand to Jim's forehead. "Why would you do that?"

"Knowing Jim?" Pike asked, loosening the hold of one arm so he could ease the sleeve of his discarded over shirt out from between Jim's teeth. Last time the kid had seized he'd almost bitten his tongue off and McCoy was pleased to see Pike had actually retained some damn sense. "Probably to see if he could."

"Goddamnit." McCoy muttered.

The seizure died into muscle spasms, then eventually stopped entirely as Jim lost consciousness. "Help me get him into bed." Pike ordered, taking Jim under the armpits and waiting for McCoy to grab his legs.

The two of them maneuvered him through the shared bathroom into the First Officer's quarters. McCoy let Pike take most of Jim's weight so he could pull back the sheets on the bed and they could manhandle him into a more comfortable position. Once settled against the pillows, Jim seemed to relax and curled over on his side. He wouldn't wake for a good few hours if experience had any say and McCoy had already resigned himself to hovering by the kid's bedside like the old mother hen Jim accused him of being.

He couldn't help but reach out and brush strands of the kid's damp hair back off his forehead. "This is goddamn inhumane." He said, more to himself than Pike.

That didn't stop the captain responding. "What choice do we have?" Pike stood in the shadows of the doorway, his arms crossed and his expression blank. McCoy hoped the bastard couldn't sleep at night. He sure as hell couldn't.

"This is not what I signed up for." McCoy growled, his chest aching as Jim leaned into the warmth of McCoy's hand.

"You're a grown man, McCoy." Pike said coolly. "You know as well as I do that things aren't black and white."

"This," McCoy hissed, pointing down at Jim, "is entirely black and white. We need him, but we don't trust him, so we keep him on a goddamn leash."

"And what's the alternative?" Pike said wearily. They had had this conversation so, so many times, but McCoy was the one who had to look Jim in the eye when he injected the kid with poison three times a week. "We let him leave? The enemies he has, he'd be dead within a week. You knew exactly what you were doing when we started this."

God help him, he did. He was CMO, a doctor: he didn't have the excuse of just following orders. Jim Kirk had cut a bloody path from the middle of the Klingon Empire right up to the Federation's doorstep and he'd left chaos in his wake. The thought of utilizing those skills, of having Kirk be a weapon for good instead of a mercenary for the highest bidder… well McCoy had his own reasons for discarding his oath, and he'd justified them right up until he'd followed Pike into that damned shuttle and realized just how far off the reservation he'd gone.

By then it was too late to turn back. They'd been looking for Kirk for months and when they finally found him the orders had been clear: they were to use him, or discard him.

So they had, and McCoy had to learn to live with the fact that he'd created the chains that essentially kept a man in slavery. He might have been able to do it if Jim hadn't been…Jim. McCoy wasn't sure if the kid had Stockholm Syndrome or was just a really good actor. He wasn't sure if they were going to get him killed, or if he'd be the one killing them.

He wasn't sure what was worse.

"How's he ever going to earn our trust if we don't give him the chance?" McCoy said for what felt like the hundredth time. "How are _we_ supposed to earn his?"

"This isn't about trust, McCoy." Pike said sadly. "It's about winning."

"No matter the cost?" McCoy asked bitterly. Jim's chest rose and fell peacefully. He'd be fine in a day or so and would stay that way so long as he continued to walk into medical with a smile on his face and an outstretched arm for McCoy to inject.

Pike sighed and moved away from the door. "Like I said: it's not that black and white. Stay with him for now. I'll be in to relieve you in a couple of hours." He closed the door behind him without further comment.

"Yes sir." McCoy said bitterly, alone now with his guilt and Jim's soft breathing.

* * *

Jim woke after three hours. It wasn't a gradual thing: simply one minute he was breathing deeply, and the next his eyes were open, alert and cautious. He caught glimpse of McCoy and his face twisted into a smile. "Hey Bones."

"Hey yourself, kid," McCoy answered gruffly. Jim yawned and stretched, muscles clearly stiff after their earlier ordeal. "You wanna tell me why you did that?"

Jim looked at him with the same innocent eyes McCoy had first seen, before he'd been able to match the pale, bloody young man they had found in the shuttle with the man's whose name inspired fear across the galaxy. "Did what?" He asked. It was times like this McCoy was sure that Jim _was_ that good a liar, and that one day he'd make his way from the bridge down to engineering, butchering everyone in his path.

"Don't bullshit me, kid." McCoy scowled. "I know you tampered with my files. Made me think you'd had your shot when you clearly didn't. Why would you do that? You know what happens. You have to take your shot every forty-eight hours."

Jim looked down at his hands, his shoulders hunched. Goddamn, McCoy wished he knew what was real: the sweet, friendly kid, or the bloodthirsty maniac.

"I just," Jim said softly, his voice matching the quiet darkness of his room. "I just wanted to know how long I could push it." He looked up and met McCoy's gaze earnestly. "In case something like Cheron happens again." McCoy couldn't stop the shudder than ran through him. Cheron had been an unprecedented clusterfuck. Jim and his entire security team had been taken and interrogated by rogue Klingon agents. It had taken Pike and Spock four days to find them and though Jim had done an impressive job at orchestrating an escape, four days was too long for him to be without his shot. He'd been practically comatose by the time he'd been brought to McCoy and they'd almost lost him, not because of the considerable damage inflicted by his captors, but by their own noose they kept around Jim's neck. "You said it yourself: it was impossible to tell whether the drugs just reached their natural half-life or deterioration was sped up by the way they smacked me around a bit."

"I told you then, kid. I'm not letting shit like that happen to you again." McCoy said stubbornly.

Jim shot him a look that made it clear just how naive he thought McCoy was being. "You can't make that promise, Bones. I had to know."

"And you couldn't have maybe, I don't know… done it in a way that didn't nearly kill you?" McCoy sighed.

"Guess it worked faster than I thought it would." Jim shrugged, then turned a blinding grin on McCoy. "Why, Bones? Did I scare you?"

"You constantly scare me, you damn brat." McCoy huffed. "Next time you want to experiment with your own damn health, tell me alright? At least that way I can fix you back up again when it blows up in your face."

"You're just saying that because you'd miss me." Jim beamed at him. "Admit it, you big softie."

"The doctor isn't the only person who'd miss you, Number One." Pike said. McCoy hadn't heard him enter the room and cursed stealthy bastards and their sneaky habits. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Jim said firmly. "No damage, right Doc?"

"This time," McCoy agreed reluctantly, "but don't think that lets you off the hook, you reckless idiot."

"Indeed." McCoy shuddered at the utter frostiness of Pike's tone. Jim's posture was still as relaxed as it had been before Pike had arrived, but McCoy had seen him burst into action in a split second and the kid was _always_ ready for it. "Doctor, if you'll excuse us, Number One and I have some things to talk about."

"I don't think-"

"Leave, McCoy: that's an order." Pike growled.

McCoy could have stayed, stood his ground and done what? Proved how defiant he was? That Jim could trust him to have his back?

McCoy's cowardice was already established. Nothing he did now would change that.

"Yes sir."

McCoy couldn't look Jim in the eye this time, and left without a further word.

* * *

He didn't see Jim until the kid came bounding into sickbay two days later, sleeve already rolled up and a brilliant smile in place as he flirted with each and everyone of McCoy's nurses. "Bones!" Jim greeted, full of a warm enthusiasm than made McCoy feel sick.

McCoy loaded Jim's shot, clutching the hypo harder than normal in an attempt to stop his hand from shaking.

"You okay, Jim?" McCoy asked quietly, taking Jim's wrist in his hand and turning his arm so he could press the hypo in place. "Pike didn't…"

"Pike didn't what, Bones? Have me keelhauled?" Jim's blue eyes were bright and wide and playful and McCoy wanted to shake him until he saw something real. "I swear you have the world's most overly dramatic imagination."

"No, I just," flustered, he rubbed his thumb over the spot on Jim's arm where the hypo had delivered its load. The skin was blemish free and innocuous. He looked up and met Jim's gaze, hoping that some of what he was feeling was clear to see. Guilt, maybe, or sorrow. "You know you can come to me, right kid?" He said in quiet earnest, well aware of the hypocrisy of his words.

Jim grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Bones, I don't know what you're thinking but it isn't like that. _Pike_ isn't like that. He's as soft as you are under all that badass captain shit."

McCoy wanted desperately to believe that, he did. He _liked_ Pike, goddamnit.

"If you say so, Jim." He said reluctantly. "If you say so."

Jim stood and rolled his sleeve down. "Well I do." He said brightly. "And you're getting maudlin in your old age. Come on, we're about to enter Cardassian Space. You gonna come make sure I don't start a war or sit there being a grumpy old sawbones?"

McCoy grabbed the olive branch and clung to it desperately. "Enough with the old, you insolent brat."

"You're ancient, Bones. Practically decrepit." Jim sniggered, pulling on McCoy's arm until they were out of sickbay and meandering their way to the bridge.

"I'm thirty four." McCoy said dryly. Nearly ten years older than the kid bouncing down the hall at his side.

"See," Jim smirked. "Old."

"Yeah, so what's that make Pike?" McCoy snorted.

Jim's smile sharpened. "Pike? He's got one foot in the grave already."


	5. Chapter 5

So I think by now we've established that this isn't the kind of world where the good guys are good and the bad guys cackle manically in an evil liar. It's not reboot universe, or tos universe, or mirror universe – this is the world where the _Narada_ finally exploded, the other side of the black hole our favorite crew barely escaped from. So, you know, free for all! Hopefully this part will fill in a few gaps. Then open up some more :D

I know everyone is missing Spock, and he'll play a big part very shorty, but there are a few things I've needed to get into place first.

Hope you enjoy what might be my favorite cliffhanger of all time :D

* * *

When Christopher Pike had just turned twenty-one years old, his best friend had turned her best and most beautiful smile on him and asked him to be the godfather of her youngest son.

The boy hadn't even been born yet but Chris had never been able to deny Winona anything. He'd agreed, and in doing so made the biggest tactical error of his life.

He hadn't known at the time that the Universe was about to go to Hell in a hand basket. No one had. They'd all been young and foolish. He'd just been promoted to Lieutenant and taken his first posting on a Space Station right on the frontier. Winona had been pregnant with her second child, serving on the USS Kelvin with her husband, a man Chris liked and respected despite himself. George Kirk had been perfect, obnoxiously so, but he was also the kindest man Chris had ever known.

Loosing them both had been agonizing.

But losing their little boy, a child who had only been in the world a few short hours before the Kelvin was destroyed…it had been a pain beyond words.

Twenty-five years on, that day was a national day of mourning. Back then, it had been day one of a war that had crippled the galaxy.

The facts had been few: a Federation ship in Neutral Space had been attacked by a Romulan ship that had itself self-destructed moments later. The Romulans had denied involvement of course, but the evidence had been damning. Within hours of the attack, the Federation had retaliated.

A week later, the Klingon Empire took advantage of their distraction and invaded the Space Station Pike had been serving on. He'd escaped, along with over half of the crew. They had been the lucky ones. Everyone else had been butchered.

In the end, no one had been spared the fallout. The war was long and messy and showed no sign of ending, even now. One minute it was a free for all, the next, a truce had been formed between two parties in order to cripple the third before greed and betrayal set in and the alliances crumbled only for the cycle to repeat.

Chris had, in the space of one memorable day when he'd been in the company of a Klingon Ambassador, gone from enemy to ally three on separate occasions as Romulan, Klingon and Federation politicians played dice.

Mostly though, they all just tried to kill each other.

It was bullshit.

It was also why, when they shared a third of their boarders with the Romulans and the Klingons respectively, other alliances were to be courted and protected at all costs.

It was why the _Enterprise_ was currently docked on the edge of unfriendly Cardassian Space at Deep Space 9. The last thing they could afford was for hostilities to break out. The Federation was overstretched and undermanned enough as it was.

So the _Enterprise_ came running as it had been requested to, and all Pike could think as he walked from the transporter room to the main atrium with Jim was that this might just have been the dumbest thing he'd ever done.

And he'd done some pretty dumb things, one of which leaned over to him and tried to reassure him.

"You're paranoid." Jim hissed to him out of the corner of his mouth. "Stop it."

"Tell me that in two hours." Pike responded, equally as subtly.

Jim smiled pleasantly as they were directed to the Cardassian Task Force that had been assigned to the case. "They have nothing to gain by setting us up." Jim pointed out. "They hate the Klingons as much as they hate us, and they hate the Romulans because they remind them too much of the Vulcans, who they also hate. Lots of hate, but no motive for actually screwing us over."

Pike glared at his First Officer but obligingly took a seat. "Fine." He told Jim. "But when I'm right and we get shot at, you're buying the drinks."

Jim shrugged. "Sounds fair to me."

* * *

"Okay, so maybe I owe you a couple of beers," Jim said conversationally, not two hours later when he and Pike had, as Pike had suspected, been met by armed escorts and promptly dumped in a holding cell.

A holding cell with chains, because why stop with locking them in a room when you could add props?

"A couple, Number One?" Pike sighed. He wasn't overly concerned, not yet. Their communicators had been confiscated but he was locked in a cell with a man he was fairly sure could actually kill with his hands tied, and his highly twitchy, exceedingly paranoid crew were currently awaiting the worst. The _Enterprise_ had enough firepower to level the city and was currently under the command of a crazy Scotsman and an overprotective Vulcan.

"Maybe three." Jim prevaricated. "Don't push your luck." He glanced up at the corner of the room where the surveillance system was most likely hidden and grinned, not a hint of subtlety.

"So what happened to 'they hate the Klingons as much as they hate us'?"

"They do!" Jim said, shifting in discomfort and rattling the chains he was bound with. "I mean, it's not like they'd have any other reason to keep us here, right?"

Pike took the lead and went with it. "You tell me, Number One. You seem to know a lot about them. You told me you had nothing to do with the Cardassian Union." He accused.

Jim's eyes widened innocently. "And I don't! I've never even been to Cardassia, you know that!"

"And yet you speak Cardassian." Pike said suspiciously.

Jim rolled his eyes. "I speak fucking Quenya but you don't see me gallivanting with Elves!" Pike stared at him blankly. "Seriously? Twentieth Century novel? It's a classic!" Jim looked rather put out but quickly realized that Pike didn't give a damn about his reading habits. "Uhura speaks Cardassian, you're don't give her the grand inquisition." He said in irritation.

"Uhura isn't on the run from the Klingon Empire." Pike pointed out. "Her loyalty isn't in question here."

"Oh but mine is?" Jim looked hurt. "What more do I have to do to prove myself to you? I win battles for you, I kill people for you, I let Bones inject me with valhalandramide every other day, and that shit fucking _hurts_. And you still don't trust me."

Pike wanted to continue the conversation, to say something of the fact that while the best lies were founded in the truth, Jim really should _not _have brought that up then, but their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Yasin, head of the Cardassian's ground response force, and a second figure who was clearly going for hooded cliché of the decade.

"Are we interrupting?" Yasin asked in the faux friendly manner of anyone who had spent time in politics.

Jim matched it tone for tone. "Yes, actually. A few more minutes?" Yasin waved his hand, gesturing them to continue.

"Not now, Number One." Pike glared at him.

"No. They don't mind," he looked up at Yasin, "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all. It's pleasing to see you so relaxed in our company, despite what I fear must be uncomfortable surroundings."

Jim scowled, unimpressed. "I grew up on a Klingon prison planet."

"I had heard that. I hope you won't be repaying our hospitality the same way you did theirs."

"Clearly I'm famous." Jim said with a wicked grin. "That's cool."

"Not as famous as you should be." Yasin said. "Not as famous as you will be." He crouched by Jim and tilted his chin to one side, getting a closer look at his face. "You do have your father's eyes." Yasin murmured. Jim's faux sweetness dropped and he spat in Yasin's face. "His spirit, too. Such a sad story."

"Oh yeah?" Jim snarled. Pike shot him a look of concern. George was a seriously tender subject for Jim, and the one thing that never failed to throw him off guard. "What do you know of it?"

"I know more than him." Yasin kicked his foot in Pike's direction.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Not hard. It isn't like Starfleet actually tell their cards what game they are playing."

"I'm all ears." Pike said as calmly as he could. He knew by now that Jim had worked his way out of at least one of the cuffs, their argument having bought them a few extra minutes before they were placed under more intense scrutiny. They'd played this tune before and it had always worked like a charm. If their captors thought there was discord in the ranks they would inevitably try and turn them against one another.

They would inevitably try and turn _Jim_. Despite his reputation, Jim was young and when he wanted to he could look horribly sweet and vulnerable. People thought they could exploit him and twist him to their own goals.

Jim would lure them in and then rip their throats out.

Messy, yet effective.

Pike could slip his cuffs if he really needed to, but he'd do serious damage in the process. Jim was a double jointed little shit and bendy as all hell. Better to leave him to it. Pike got to keep his thumbs intact and Jim got to kill someone he didn't have to write up any paperwork for. Win/win.

Yasin smiled nastily, clearly oblivious to the fact that Jim was one hand closer to killing him, especially once he turned his attention to Pike. "I'll bet you are. You must have been so surprised when you started to hear all the rumors that little Jim Kirk had survived the _Kelvin_ attack." Pike said nothing. Surprise had been an understatement. Joy, more like, quickly followed by horror. "Did anyone else ever actually put it together?" Yasin asked Jim, "Jim Kirk, bane of the Klingon Empire, and the infant son of George and Winona Kirk, killed on the day all this madness began."

"Just Pike." Jim said evenly. "He's the only one who knew what they were going to call me and my name was never actually registered."

Pike still remembered the look on George's face when Tiberius had been considered. "Must have been a shock." Yasin said, his sympathy dripping with disdain. "I'm surprised you believed it."

Pike hadn't. Not when he'd first heard the name the Klingons feared, and not when he'd been told he had the boy safe in a shuttle his ship had found drifting in space. He'd needed McCoy to verify Jim's identity, and then…

Pike's expression must have given him away. Yasin laughed. "Of course, there are other rumors. Tell me about the valhalandramide. That's no way to treat your godson."

"He's a tough kid." Pike said flatly. "He can take it."

"He shouldn't have to." Yasin turned to Jim. "Is this really what you want? To exchange one life of chains for another? Has the Federation been a kinder Master to you than the Empire?"

Jim cocked his head. "Wait, is this a recruitment drive?" He asked with a nervous laugh.

"It could be," Yasin agreed, now ignoring Pike altogether. He hoped Jim was ready, because this would be their best bet. "We do not require our soldiers to be slaves."

"I'm not a slave." Jim said softly. There it was. The wide blue eyes and the quiet, little boy lost voice.

Bitch of it was, Pike was fairly certain it wasn't as much of an act as it should be.

"You are." Yasin corrected him gently. "It does not have to be that way. The Empire have a bounty on your head so large it could by it's own solar system. My government were going to hand you over to them until I presented them with a more mutually beneficial proposal."

"To work for you." Jim finished. "I'd have the Federation on my back, not just the Klingons." Jim laughed bleakly. "Hell, killing me might be the only thing they'd agree on."

"Perhaps." Yasin nodded. "Or we could, with your help, bring all of them to ruin. The Romulans who started all this; the Klingons who caused you so much harm as a child; the Federation, who should have welcomed you back with open arms but instead put you on a leash and sent you out to kill for them."

Jim didn't think Pike trusted him.

Pike had never trusted someone so much in his life.

Jim could take the offer: Pike knew he wouldn't.

"That sounds good." Jim breathed. "Just one problem."

"And what's that?" Yasin asked.

This was the point Jim would pounce. Pike braced himself for the blood.

But Jim didn't. He didn't move at all. His eyes were fixed on a spot over Yasin's shoulder, on the hooded man Pike had forgotten was even there.

"I don't think he agrees."

Before Yasin could speak, the man threw back his hood and was across the room. He was fair-haired and a similar age to Pike himself. He closed the gap between himself and Yasin, placed a hand on his shoulder to swivel him around, and in one fluid move, slipped a blade from inside his sleeve and rammed it into Yasin's gut.

He stood impassively as Yasin fell, twitching in pain before he quickly bled to death.

There was a weight and a shadow to his eyes that suggested he'd seen and done things that the average man would never have to do, and the longer Pike stared into them, the colder the feeling in his gut became.

Those eyes. He knew those eyes.

But the man wasn't looking at him. He was looking at Jim.

And Jim was looking right back, his face twisted into such raw longing that Pike's heart ached for him.

The man strode over to him, hauled him to his feet and without a word pulled Jim into a bone-crushing embrace. The chains that had been holding Jim clattered to the floor as just as Pike suspected they would, and Jim clung to his back, fingers clenched in the rough fabric of his heavy coat.

They stood that way for several moments, Jim's face buried in the curve of the man's neck. Pike could just about hear their voices, but not the words they spoke.

He knew though, from the way the man carefully pried Jim away, touching his cheek and running a hand through his hair, checking for injuries or hurts…he knew.

George Kirk pulled Jim back into his arms as soon as he was satisfied his son was unharmed. Jim went willingly, gladly, clutching tightly at his coat once again.

Pike could only watch, suddenly thinking that his thumbs would be a small price to pay for a little more freedom of movement, as George kissed Jim's forehead with a look that said he had been waiting years to have his son safe in his arms again.

"Chris," George said amiably, his voice rough and thick with disuse. "Think you and I need to talk."


	6. Chapter 6

Yay! I'm so glad you like the arrival of George! I was looking forward to It for so long I'd reached the point where I was no longer sure if it was a fun idea or a crazy one. Crazy fun?! Anyway. To the plot!

* * *

There were two things Jim Kirk knew for certain:

The first was that he was crazy. He knew it, accepted it, and would quite often _relish_ in it. Crazy was fun. Anyone who said otherwise didn't know what they were missing.

The second was that his father was the most amazing man in existence. Possibly in history. _All_ of history. Ever.

Who else could, after finding themselves lost in space with a child barely more than a few hours old and himself a widower for just as long, manage to care and comfort his infant son despite having taken grievous wound? Who else could continue to love and protect that child even when they were captured by Klingons and thrown into the darkest pit of Hell to fend for themselves amidst the scum of the universe?

Who else could keep that child alive long enough for him to learn how to do the job himself?

Okay, so Jim and his dad were a little co-dependent, but the only other friendly face Jim had known throughout his entire childhood had been his mom's, and well, she died when he was six hours old. It had been him and George against the world. Quite literally.

And Jim had left George behind. He'd left him alone in that nightmare.

The very first word Jim had ever learned had been 'run'. It had been used fairly often in day to day life, but it's greater meaning had never really sunk in until Jim had actually done it.

_If you see the opportunity, take it. Run. Run fast and don't stop. _

George had said those words to him so many times and in so many ways that Jim had found himself obeying without conscious thought. He'd seen the chance, and he'd run. It wasn't until he'd made it half way across Klingon Space that he even realized what he'd done.

He'd been a good son. He'd obeyed.

And he'd left his dad behind.

"_I'm sorry._" Jim found himself whimpering into his father's neck. "_I'm sorry. I'm sorry_."

It was strange in a way. Jim had been free for six years now. He'd never go back to that place or any other like it, but he hadn't felt _safe_. Not until that moment. He'd felt like he'd still been running.

George's hand was tight around the back of his neck, a default position he'd taken right from when Jim was very small and George was trying to stop him seeing something awful. He'd held Jim tight, so tight it hurt some times, and try hide the world from him.

The older Jim got, the harder that became.

"_Don't_." George said harshly, his voice wrecked as it had been for years now. Jim vaguely remembered his dad speaking with a much warmer, richer voice, but the years had been cruel in so many ways. "_You did good, son. I'm so proud of you. So proud_."

Over the years they'd developed their own language, just the two of them. Most of the people they'd been surrounded with had spoken some variant of Klingon, but they were usually fairly competent at Federation Standard. To keep their conversations to themselves, they created their own method of communication. Jim hadn't used it in years but it felt as easy and fresh as ever.

_"I didn't mean to leave you behind_." Jim swore. "_I didn't_."

"You did exactly what I told you to do." George reassured him gently.

_"I tried to come back for you_." Jim mumbled into George's collar.

His dad pulled him back gently, hands on his arms and a stern expression on his face. "_So I heard. Seems like you've been busy_."

"I couldn't just leave you there." Jim said softly, this time in standard.

"Later." George stressed. He looked over at Pike and Jim started. He'd forgotten the other man was there. Careless.

"Er, Captain Pike," Jim said, because he was still, technically and in a fashion, Christopher Pike's XO, and because it was polite and George had somehow managed to teach him manners along with how to cheat a Klingon at cards, "this is my father, George Kirk. Dad, well I mean, you guys _do_ know each other I guess."

"We did." George said, a level of disapproval in his gaze that confused Jim completely. How many times had George told him Pike was to be trusted? That when Jim got free, he was to run and run until he found Pike? Jim had done that. George's unhappiness perplexed him. "Chris."

"George." Pike looked like someone had punched him in the face a few times. He gawped at the two of them, eyes wide and utterly transfixed by the sight of Jim's dad. "My god." He muttered, looking both happy and sick all at once. "My god."

The chains Pike was still wearing clattered noisily as he made to move forwards. Jim jumped and rushed to unfasten them but George held him back by the arm.

"What's this about valhalandramide?" Pike flinched. George took a step forwards, menace radiating from every pore. "Did you drug my son?"

"_Dad_." Jim whined. "Not really the time. Dead Cardassians? Big war? Important shit to be doing?"

"Did you?"

"Yes." Pike admitted quietly.

George had been fighting beings larger and stronger than he for decades. His right hook knocked Pike out cold.

"Well great." Jim huffed as his commanding officer slumped backwards in his chains. "I don't think you thought that through very well."

George shot him a look that was equal parts fondness and exasperation. "I'm your father. I'm allowed to hit people on your behalf."

"Yes, but did you have to do it here?" Jim grumbled as he stepped over Yasin's bloody corpse to untangle Pike from his bonds.

"Stop whining, kid." George said calmly. "I taught you to be adaptable."

"I'm adapting!" Jim protested, the last of the chains clattering free. He'd been able to pick most locks by the time he was seven. He'd been able to wriggle free from any he'd been placed in long before that. "But you have to carry him."

George smirked, arms crossed over his chest. "Do you want me to drop him on his head?"

Jim looked hesitantly down at Pike. The man would be grumpy as fuck when he woke up. "I don't think it'll make much difference." He admitted. A grumpy Pike was a grumpy Pike. Still, he grunted and pulled his CO over his shoulder, pausing to better distribute his weight before looking back at his dad. "You know the whole hood thing looks ridiculous, right?"

"Jim?" George turned his back on Jim to check the exit of the cell.

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

"Yes sir." Jim said happily.

Their exit clear, he followed his dad out into the corridor.

And if he happened to smack Pike's head on the door frame on the way out?

Well, he'd not needed George to fight his battles for him in years.

* * *

"What the hell happened?", "Who the hell is that?", "Why is Pike unconscious?" and "Damnit, Jim!" were all sentences fired at him by an irritated McCoy the second Jim had contacted the ship and had all three of them beamed from the Cardassian Embassy. They'd left a few bodies behind them, and the not so subtle message that they could go fuck themselves if they thought they could throw their weight around. The Federation might be neck deep in Klingons and Romulans, but they were _neck deep in Klingons and Romulans._ Aggressive response had stopped being a last call and was now standard operating practice. Jim's shoot first, ask questions if the paperwork demanded it attitude wasn't as unusual as people liked to make out. If the Cardassians wanted a fight, Jim would gladly give them one.

"This is my dad." Jim said, both serenely happy and inordinately proud. "He hit Pike. He'll probably hit you at some point, but don't worry, he's a cool guy."

McCoy gaped at him.

George held out a serious hand for McCoy to shake. "Pleased to meet you." He said politely.

McCoy responded on autopilot. "Likewise." He said, stunned. He looked over at Jim who had set Pike down on an empty biobed. "Your father is alive?"

"Obviously." Jim scoffed.

"I just…assumed."

"Mother of all fuckups, Bones." Jim said brightly. "Is Pike gonna be okay? I think he hit him too hard." He looked over at George, frowning. "I think you hit him too hard."

George shrugged carelessly but Bones obligingly began to fuss over Pike like the mother hen he was. Tricorder in hand, he eventually stepped back. "He'll be fine, kid. Though you did cold clock the poor bastard something spectacular. Why was that again?" McCoy eyed George suspiciously and Jim felt his back straighten in annoyance.

"Probably because he's an asshole." Jim said grumpily. "You are too, by the way."

Jim fought the urge not to scratch at the spot McCoy regularly dosed him with valhalandramide. It never stopped burning. Bones's guilty flinch didn't make him feel half as vindicated as he wished it would. He knew McCoy was only following orders, but at the same time he'd seen the doc _defy_ orders often enough to know that if he really _was_ as adamantly against drugging Jim as he claimed, no force in the galaxy would make him.

Jim had never had a friend before McCoy, but he was fairly sure this wasn't how they treated one another.

Though maybe he was wrong.

He thought about asking his dad, but from George's reaction to Pike he feared he wouldn't like the answer.

He liked Pike. He liked McCoy. He didn't want to think that they wanted to cause him harm.

And he really didn't want to think that they wanted to control him.

Jim didn't like being controlled. The Klingons had learned that lesson the hard way.

"Jim," George said, hand on his shoulder to draw him out of his thoughts. "You need to be on the bridge. I doubt the Cardassians will take too kindly to us disembowling one of their heads of state." Sometimes Jim forgot that his dad had once done the same job as he now did. Far more efficiently and with a whole lot less bodies, Jim suspected.

"You did what?" McCoy yelped, half hovering over Pike as he resettled the man on the biobed.

Jim shrugged. "He deserved it." He said in protest. "Asshole."

"You actually dismembered him?" The doctor looked ill.

"Oh come on Bones, you've seen me do worse! Remember the bar on Risa?" Come to think of it, that bar on Risa might be the reason Bones didn't let him go drinking alone any more. Jim might have gotten a little carried away.

They had deserved it as well. Turned out there were just as many assholes free to roam the universe as there were locked up in a Klingon prison planet. Possibly more, which was shocking really.

"Don't remind me." Bones muttered, green around the gills. For a doctor he really did have a surprisingly weak stomach. "Go on," he waved Jim off. "Go do that thing you do that I pretended for my own sanity you don't do."

"That thing?" Jim frowned, clearly missing the subject of conversation. "What thing?"

"I believe the doctor feels our actions were excessively violent." George mused, head tilted to one side. "He disapproves."

"Oh." Jim's shoulders slumped. He didn't like the idea of Bones disapproving of him, though he couldn't understand why.

Bones sighed that frustrated sigh he always made when he felt Jim was being either too obtuse or too damaged to treat like a normal person. He had a lot over sighs and Jim had been cataloging them ever since they met. "It's not like that Jim." He said softly. "Just go. I'll send Pike up when he comes round."

"Okay," Jim said, feeling more subdued than he had previously.

Then George squeezed his shoulder, reminding him that even if Bones did disapprove, his dad was here and alive and proud of him.

He turned to leave sickbay when Bones' soft voice called him back. "Jim. Make sure you come in for your shot when you're done."

Jim purposely didn't touch that spot.

"Okay Bones." He said softly.


End file.
